


ripples

by lazyfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Spinoff, like so much fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-08-27 06:51:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16697509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: A possible sequel to Gort’s fic,Riptide.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gort](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gort/gifts).



> If you haven’t read Riptide by Gort, there be spoilers ahead!

The first thing Bobbi noticed when she woke up was the empty bed beside her; the second was the sunlight slanting in through the bedroom window. The sun hit the bed almost directly, something Bobbi hadn’t known before now, on account of her always being out of bed at the crack of dawn. Crawling out of bed was more of a task now than it ever had been when Hunter woke her up for dawn patrol.

When Bobbi shuffled into the kitchen, Daisy was the only one sitting at the table, her laptop in front of her and a half-eaten bowl of cereal to the side. Bobbi raked her fingers through her hair, blinking blearily at Daisy.

The other woman only recognized Bobbi’s presence when she trudged over to the cabinets to pull down a bowl for her own breakfast.

“You and Hunter have an argument last night?” Daisy asked. She was obviously trying to be casual instead of nosy, but it wasn’t working. Bobbi focused on not biting her lip when she turned back around to face Daisy. She hadn’t considered her conversation with Hunter the night previous to be an argument, but maybe he thought that? Bobbi honestly wasn’t sure what page he was on. He always woke her up for dawn patrol, even when they had spats. Him not doing it felt like a shift in their relationship - one Bobbi wasn’t ready for.

“Has Jemma found the Cocoa Puffs yet?” Bobbi was hoping the non sequitur was enough to warn Daisy off of the subject, but it was to no avail.

“I’m only asking because Piper’s supposed to come over tonight and I don’t want her to visit if you guys are going to be having loud make-up sex right next door,” Daisy pushed. Piper was another American who had intended to come to Samoa just for a vacation and ended up staying much longer, so she fit right in with the rest of their motley crew. “Kind of ruins the mood, y’know?”

“We won’t be having loud make-up sex tonight, Dais.” Whether her friend chose to interpret that to mean that Bobbi was  _ super _ pissed or that there was no argument at all was honestly none of her concern. “Cocoa Puffs?” She repeated.

“Nope, we have not yet been discovered.” Daisy was much happier to answer Bobbi’s question after her own had been responded to. “That bad, huh?” The Cocoa Puffs were nominally for emergencies only. What constituted an emergency had gradually grown broader over their months on the island, since Jemma had yet to discover their cereal stash. Either way, they weren’t an every-morning type food, and Daisy was reading way too much into it.

Or she was reading the right amount into it, and Bobbi was just in horrible denial. 

She didn’t answer the question, choosing instead to make herself breakfast and retreat back to the bedroom she shared with Hunter. Unease made her stomach swirl, which in turn made it difficult to choke down the cereal. Eventually Bobbi had to admit that she was losing the fight. She set the bowl of cereal, still barely touched, on the bedside table and laid back, trying to ignore the growing nausea. 

It was a few minutes later when the front door slammed. Bobbi winced - Fitz really needed to get on fixing the hinges, or every entrance into the house sounded angry. Hunter’s voice filled the house as he argued with Fitz over the balance of a board for the fifth time in as many days, and Bobbi couldn’t help the exasperated eye roll she made. She wasn’t sure why Hunter thought pestering Fitz was going to change his mind, but she did admire the persistence.

Bobbi lifted the bowl of cereal back into her lap. Hunter would have something to say if he thought she was skipping meals. The cereal just reminded her of the knot in her stomach, though, and she closed her eyes against another swell of the sick feeling.

That was when Hunter chose to open the door.

“Good morning, love,” Hunter greeted cheerfully. When her eyes snapped open Bobbi saw that Hunter had a towel over his head as he dried his hair, mostly blocking her from his view.

“Are you mad at me?” She blurted out.

Hunter’s movements stopped abruptly. “What?” He finished drying his hair, throwing the towel towards their laundry bin. He missed.

“You didn’t wake me up for dawn patrol.” Bobbi stirred the cereal listlessly, if only because it gave her something to do. “I want to know if you’re mad about… what we talked about.”

“What?” Hunter repeated. “Bob, no, I - I just thought you’d appreciate the extra sleep today is all.” He climbed into bed beside her, scooting over until they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder. Hunter leaned to kiss her cheek, and Bobbi wrinkled her nose at the rough texture of his lips.

“You need to use more Chapstick,” she reprimanded softly. She turned to press a kiss to his lips nonetheless. When she pulled back, Bobbi studied his face intently. “And put on more sunscreen. You’re getting a burn.” Hunter’s cheeks were pinker than usual, as was his nose. Bobbi didn’t want to think about who put sunscreen on his back for him this morning, since that was normally her job, but she wanted even less to believe that he would go out without it.

“Yes, mum,” Hunter teased. He paused, a slow, reverent smile creeping onto his face. “Mum,” he repeated softly.

“That’s me,” Bobbi confirmed. The words felt oddly sticky in her throat, but they were true. She was going to be somebody’s mum. That was  _ so _ weird, almost unbelievable - no matter what the pregnancy test in the bedside drawer said. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I wasn’t going to wake you,” Hunter said. He grabbed the bowl of cereal from Bobbi, obviously noting that it was mostly uneaten, and set it on his side table. “But I was doing some reading last night, and it said that the baby will be taking a lot of energy during the first trimester, and it’s better to get extra sleep if you can, and… I felt bad getting you up so early.” He cleared his throat, and reached to slide his fingers through hers. “You were already asleep, and it felt stupid to wake you just to tell you I  _ wasn’t _ going to wake you.”

“You started reading?” Bobbi asked quietly. Her eyes began to burn uncomfortably. She’d never doubted that Hunter could take something seriously - having a baby, after all, couldn’t be more serious than committing bank fraud a dozen times over - but she hadn’t expected him to dive in headfirst the way he apparently had.

“Of course,” he answered, voice just as soft. “It also mentioned morning sickness, which is why I am not going to bother you about wasting Cocoa Puffs.” Hunter cracked a smile, and Bobbi smiled back at him.

“I don’t know what’s going on with that,” she admitted. “I mean, last week I didn’t really feel like breakfast, but I still ate it. Today I just… couldn’t.”

Hunter made a sympathetic noise. “Do you want some tea? We might have a ginger blend - could settle your stomach.”

Bobbi was about to decline when she noticed the earnesty in Hunter’s eyes. If she was honest, she  _ did _ want tea - she just didn’t want to be treated like she was incapable now that she was pregnant. Even if she hadn’t been, though, would Hunter have still offered to make her tea if she mentioned feeling ill? Bobbi could confidently answer that yes, he would. There would probably be a little more griping, but she would get the tea.

So, Bobbi nodded.

“Don’t move a muscle,” Hunter instructed. “Okay, maybe move your diaphragm. Definitely move your diaphragm, actually. But don’t move any other muscle.” Bobbi chuckled at his use of the technical term, and wondered how many times Jemma had said the same thing to him. 

Oh, shoot. Jemma. She needed to hide the Cocoa Puffs evidence and also come up with a plan to keep her friend from noticing that she was knocked up - preferably in that order, too. 

She was still no closer to achieving either of those goals when Hunter returned with a steaming mug of tea. By the smell of it they had indeed had some ginger tea, and Bobbi accepted the mug gratefully. Hunter returned to her side, careful not to jostle too much and cause her to spill the tea.

Bobbi sipped at the drink, sighing softly at the warmth. It made less sense to drink tea now that the day was on its way to warm, but she didn’t care. It tasted good - tea always tasted better when Hunter made it - and it was surprisingly effective at soothing her stomach. That might have been the placebo effect, but Bobbi was going to take what she could get. 

“When do you want to tell the others?” Bobbi asked in between sips.

Hunter’s mouth turned downwards. “Well, you’re not supposed to tell people until the first trimester is over. In case -” He didn’t finish the sentence.

“In case something happens,” Bobbi said for him. She stared at the surface of her tea, contemplating it. She had only begun suspecting she was pregnant the week previous, and the confirmation had happened the night before, but the idea of not having the baby already made her feel horrible. Trying to think about having to tell Jemma and Fitz and Daisy that she had lost the baby sent a fresh wave of tears prickling at her eyes. 

But going through that when they didn’t even know she was pregnant in the first place? That sounded just as bad. They all lived together, so it would be hard to hide the resulting sadness from them.

If nothing bad did happen, it would be even harder to hide - especially if the morning sickness was going to get increasingly worse as the months wore on. They had to work hard just to keep a cereal box hidden from Jemma, so keeping a pregnancy secret, even for a little while, would be much more effort than it was really worth.

Hunter seemed to have reached the same conclusion, because when he next spoke, it wasn’t about the hypothetical looming over them. “I just want this to be ours for a little while longer,” he said, settling his hand on Bobbi’s thigh. “We can tell them before the first trimester is up, but…”

“Time for just us sounds great to me,” Bobbi said, moving her mug of tea to her left hand so she could cover Hunter’s hand with hers. She probably needed a little more time to let this all sink in, anyways.

“Two weeks?” Hunter suggested. That would make her a full two months pregnant when they made the announcement.

“Two weeks sounds good,” Bobbi agreed readily. “But you have to let me go on dawn patrol with you, or they’ll suspect,” she said. “Daisy thinks we’re mad at each other.”

“Okay.” Hunter sighed. “But if you want to get more sleep, tell me, okay?”

“Deal,” Bobbi said. “But Hunter?”

“Yes, Bob?”

“I still want to spend all my sunrises with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Riptide is one of my fave fics and Gort is one of my favorite people, so I had a blast with this. It’s also entirely Gort’s fault. :)


	2. Chapter 2

It was another morning in paradise, which meant another morning on the beach for Bobbi. Over the last two weeks she had abandoned any notions of surfing when she went out with Hunter to watch the sunrise. She had lost her meager breakfast to the ocean one too many times to want to voluntarily make herself sicker. Besides, the view from the beach was stunning - and she wasn’t talking about just the waves.

Hunter was showing off again. Normally Bobbi wouldn’t mind (who wouldn’t want an attractive man falling over himself to get their attention?), except for that in falling over himself, Hunter was also  _ literally _ falling… a lot. Every time he wiped out trying some overly complicated trick on his board, Bobbi’s stomach seized uncomfortably, fearing that it would be the time that he wouldn’t resurface.

Eventually her nerves couldn’t take it anymore, and Bobbi waved at Hunter to come back in. Bobbi tried to prepare an excuse, but that was hard to do when her actual reason for wanting him back at her side was so irrational. Bobbi knew Hunter was a competent swimmer, and that him drowning could only happen in a freak accident. She knew that, but since finding herself pregnant with his child, Bobbi had found herself oddly protective of Lance. She had thought it was supposed to work the other way around, with Hunter smothering her, but that just showed how ill-prepared Bobbi was for this whole pregnancy thing. Everything seemed to be hitting her out of left field.

“Did you see that last one, Bob?” Hunter asked as he jogged up to where she was sitting. “Almost made it that go-round.”

“I did see,” Bobbi answered evenly. No need to tell him that the trick he was so proud of almost nailing was the same reason she had beckoned him back to her.

Hunter finished stripping off his wetsuit, and situated himself beside her on the beach towel. He smelled of seawater and sand, and Bobbi breathed it in greedily. The scent of the ocean was the only thing that seemed to soothe the nausea that was her ever-present companion, and it smelled even better coming off Hunter.

“And did our little beach baby?” Hunter whispered. He obviously wanted to reach for her stomach, but settled for grabbing her hand instead.

“I don’t think they have eyes yet, babe,” Bobbi answered, squeezing his fingers. He was being amazingly patient with waiting to share their news, even though he had obviously wanted to shout it from the rooftops from the first day. 

Speaking of… “Today’s the day.” They had decided to tell their family when she was ten weeks, and that was today.

“I know.” Hunter smiled his stupidly perfect smile, the early morning light catching his eyes and turning them golden. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Bobbi said, blowing out a breath. A part of her still worried about what their friends would say. She wasn’t sure whether it was her own guilt still niggling at her or something else entirely, but some days Bobbi swore she hadn’t been forgiven for her previous lies. She knew Hunter had forgiven her. He had forgiven her the same day she had found him on the beach, and at least a hundred times since then. He’d even forgiven her once this morning in a  _ very  _ pleasurable break from thinking about how sick she felt.

As long as he was with her, Bobbi supposed she could deal with whatever the others had to say.

“Let’s get you wet and head back, then.” Hunter scrambled to his feet and offered Bobbi a hand up. She accepted it, crinkling her nose.

“I much prefer you getting me wet under different circumstances,” she quipped. Hunter laughed as they made their way down to the waterline together. 

Even though Bobbi couldn’t stand to be on a surfboard for long, a key part of their charade was making everything look like business of usual. That involved dousing her in ocean water until she looked like she had been submerged several times over, which was a generally unpleasant experience. It didn’t allow her time to acclimate to the chill, and even though the late summer morning was relatively warm, Bobbi ended up covered in goosebumps.

“I know,” Hunter murmured as her teeth began to chatter. “Come here.” He pulled her into a hug, his body heat giving her some measure of comfort. The rest of it was drawn from this being the last time she would ever have to pretend in the interest of tricking their housemates (mainly Jemma and Fitz, honestly). 

They packed up their things quickly, tucking their boards under their arms and beginning the trek back to the house. Their walks on the beach together were Bobbi’s favorite part of her morning, especially since she was actually awake enough on the way back to have a meaningful conversation. 

Talking to Hunter was… nice. Bobbi had never doubted that she loved him, but the talks they’d been having on their way back from dawn patrol since the baby news had broke had made it abundantly clear that she could raise a child with him, too. It felt oddly intimate to talk about their own baggage with their parents in the open air, where anyone could hear them, but it worked. It all worked.

The door slammed behind them, and Bobbi rolled her eyes. She had lost count of how many times she had reminded Fitz to fix the damn thing over the past fortnight, but he had steadfastly forgotten after every request. 

Jemma and Fitz were at the kitchen table when Bobbi and Hunter came in, but they looked like they were working rather than eating. 

“Can you spare a sec?” Hunter asked the pair, pulling them out of their pile of papers. “Bob and I have something we want to tell you.”

That was a bit more direct than Bobbi’s planned approach, and her stomach fluttered unpleasantly. Bobbi tried to force herself into calm - this didn’t have to be that big of a deal if they didn’t make it one. 

Apparently, their housemates were intent on doing just that. “Did you finally do it?!” Jemma gasped, bouncing out of her seat. “Oh, Fitz, go get the champagne!” 

Bobbi froze. Jemma Simmons with  _ alcohol _ ? Unheard of. What did she think was happening? There was no way she could’ve known… right? And if she did know, then why was she offering  _ Bobbi _ alcohol?

“ _ Daisy _ !” Jemma called before Bobbi could ask. “Daisy!” She repeated when their friend didn’t emerge. Jemma darted down the hallway and began pounding a tattoo on Daisy’s door, leaving the trio in the kitchen tremendously confused. 

“Wha?” Daisy appeared in the doorway, obviously awoken by Jemma’s excessive knocking.

“Hunter did it!” Jemma squealed.

That woke Daisy up instantly. “No fucking way!” She sprinted across the room, and grabbed Bobbi’s hand.

“Jemma.” Daisy dropped Bobbi’s hand. “There’s no ring.”

“You proposed without a  _ ring _ ?!” Jemma shrieked. “Alright, I suppose you get points for the romantic setting - a beach at sunrise is a bit cliché but it does have personal meaning as well - but really, you need a ring for a decent proposal. Unless it’s here, and you just didn’t want to drop it? That would be something you’d do…”

It’s only by the end of Jemma’s babbling that Bobbi caught on. Jemma and Daisy seemed to be under the impression that Hunter had asked her to marry him. 

“There’s no ring because there was no proposal,” Hunter said. Bobbi was surprised by his composure, but glad for it too. Fitz was the only one who seemed more confused than Bobbi was, holding the unopened bottle of champagne awkwardly. Hunter seemed keen on getting their announcement back on track, and Bobbi inched closer to him.

“Oh.” Jemma’s face fell. “Well, what is it, then?”

Hunter looked at Bobbi, and she looked right back. She loved their found family, but they had been Hunter’s first. The new was both of theirs to share, and she wasn’t going to stop him if he wanted to be the one to share it.

“Bobbi is having a baby.”

Any disappointment that had been present on Jemma and Daisy’s faces disappeared as soon as the words were out of Hunter’s mouth, and moments later Bobbi found herself crushed in between the two of them as they both went in for hugs. Just when Bobbi was worrying about her ability to breathe, they broke away.

“I’m gonna be an aunt!” Daisy crowed.

“How far along are you? When did you find out? Have you been sleeping enough? Do you have any morning sickness? Did you get any vitamins? Oh dear, I should probably start working on a nutrition plan to make sure you’re getting everything you need to ensure proper fetal development…”

“Simmons,” Fitz said, coming up behind her. “Breathe.”

Bobbi ducked her head, burrowing herself into Hunter’s side. All of Jemma’s questions had overwhelmed her, but she didn’t want to make her friend feel bad. That hadn’t been her intention; she was just showing caring in the best way she knew how.

“She’s ten weeks, we found out week before last. She’s been pretty sick but normally manages to keep the vitamin down, and we’ve been making sure she drinks enough fluids.” Hunter stroked a hand down Bobbi’s back while he answered Jemma’s questions, soothing her. “You really don’t need to make a plan, Jem. The only thing she can stand to eat right now is toast and crackers.”

“Okay.” Jemma sounded disappointed again. “But if there’s anything I can do to help -”

“We’ll be sure to let you know,” Hunter agreed. “We’re taking it day by day. Right, Bob?”

Bobbi took that as her cue to emerge from Hunter’s shoulder, nodding in response to his question. “There’s still a lot we’re trying to figure out,” she said. She had no doubt that Jemma would be a great help with all pregnancy-related things, but there were still some things she needed to discover for herself.

“...So, can I open this champagne or what?” Daisy asked.

Hunter laughed. “You do that, Dais. I’ll get the tea started.” He kissed Bobbi’s temple before leaving to put the kettle on. She watched his back as he began rummaging in the kitchen, unable to stop the smile that crept onto her face.

“You think it’s hot when he goes all Dad Mode, huh?” Daisy asked, appearing at Bobbi’s elbow. Bobbi fought against the blush that was threatening to creep onto her cheeks. “You totally do,” Daisy confirmed gleefully.

“Well, what’s he going to do? Get me pregnant?” Bobbi smirked. 

“Touché,” Daisy said with a laugh. She opened the bottle of champagne with a loud  _ pop _ , giggling as it overflowed onto her hand. 

Fitz handed Daisy champagne flutes that he had materialized from some cupboard, and she began pouring healthy amounts of it into each glass. “Too bad you can’t have any.” Daisy’s attempt at sympathy was admirable, except for that she was taking great joy in pouring even more into the next glass.

Hunter returned to the kitchen table, waving Daisy off when she tried to offer him his portion of champagne. “Solidarity,” he said sagely, wrapping an arm around Bobbi’s waist. 

She blinked at him. Bobbi very much doubted that Hunter would make it through the rest of her pregnancy without a drink, but she was going to accept what she could get. They waited long enough for the tea to finish before Hunter raised his teacup in a toast.

“To old friends, and new beginnings.”

Bobbi’ll drink to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I slipped and fell. Big thanks to Gort for all of her love and chattering with me about island baby until I couldn't possibly leave this as a oneshot.


	3. Chapter 3

Bobbi was going to miss Samoa. It was all she’d been thinking about for the past week - how much she’s going to miss this place. Part of it, she reckoned, was because Samoa was where she and Hunter could finally be together with no secrets between them. It was a place for new beginnings of all sorts, and she was going to have to leave it behind. 

She and Hunter had agreed that it would be easier to raise a baby in the States, where things were familiar and they were closer to their work. Melinda would be thrilled to have someone else to go to meetings with her. 

Logically, it made sense. Samoa was never supposed to be permanent. Emotionally, though… the more she thought about it the more Bobbi wanted to stay. But she had already booked her plane ticket, she and Hunter had found an apartment, and they were working through finding an obstetrician they both liked the looks of. She wasn’t going to go through all this effort and then back out. 

There was one more thing Bobbi wanted to do before she was stateside again. She needed to call her parents. 

It was a conversation she had avoided more out of exasperation than anything else. Bobbi’s mother was going to have more than a little to say about her being pregnant out of wedlock, and when she learned Hunter wasn’t a rich and successful lawyer, there would be words. Bobbi was hoping the expense of an international phone call would keep those words to a minimum. 

She had been trying to make the call for the past thirty minutes, her finger hovering above the call button. It was just that everything was so  _ peaceful _ \- the waves lapping at the sand, Hunter dozing with his head in her lap, the familiar smell of sunscreen in the air… she didn’t want to ruin the moment. 

Hunter yawned, stretching and blinking up lazily at her when he finally managed to get his eyes open. Bobbi bent down to kiss him gently. “Hey, sleepy head.” She shouldn’t tease him, considering she had taken more than her fair share of naps on his lap over the last month, but she had an excuse.

“You are too comfortable,” Hunter groaned, turning to bury his face in her stomach. Bobbi ran her fingers through his hair with her free hand, ignoring the dial screen staring up at her accusingly. 

“Sorry,” Bobbi said, even though it didn’t seem to be the kind of thing she needed to apologize for.

“Hmmph.” Hunter kissed her stomach gently before sitting up. He arranged himself so he was still leaning against Bobbi, his head on her shoulder instead of her lap. “How did your conversation with your mum go?”

“It didn’t,” Bobbi answered shortly. 

Hunter cocked his head inquisitively, and Bobbi sighed. “I… might be a little freaked out.” She had no reason to be - she knew her mother’s reaction wouldn’t be a positive one, and quite frankly, she didn’t care. Her mother hadn’t wanted her to go into the FBI, either. She had been right about that one, but for an entirely wrong reason, so Bobbi wasn’t going to give her any points.

“Do you want me to do it?”

“Oh,  _ god _ no!” Bobbi was never going to let her parents speak to Hunter if she could help it. They would just be all snide remarks about how he hadn’t gotten his law degree and - ugh, they infuriated her!

“Bob,” Hunter said softly, stroking a hand through her hair. “Just get on with it, sweetheart. Waiting isn’t helping you.”

She hated when he was right (but kind of loved that he knew her well enough to say it). With a sigh, Bobbi hit the dial button. 

“Hello?” Her mother picked up on the first ring. Had she been waiting by the phone?

“Hello, Mother.”

“Barbara! Honey, it’s been so long since I’ve heard from you! Why on earth are you calling from an international number?” Bobbi rolled her eyes at her mother’s none-too-subtle attempt at a guilt trip and her simpering-sweet tone. 

“I’ve lived in Samoa the past few months for work,” Bobbi answered vaguely. “I’m heading back to the States in two weeks because I’m having a baby.”

“A baby? Oh, darling, I’m so sorry, I must have missed the wedding invitation.” 

“There wasn’t one. I’m not married.” Bobbi said. She could practically hear her mother clutching at her pearls over the phone. 

“Barbara, I must say, I’m disappointed. I thought I taught you better than -”

“Did you know Samoa is a non-extraditable country, Mother?” Bobbi interrupted. “I’m here because my boyfriend was wanted for a crime and fled here. He’s a professional surfer.” Alright, the last bit wasn’t quite true, but Bobbi couldn’t help but get a little joy at what her mother would think of her grandchild being fathered by a surfer with a criminal record. 

“Barbara!” Her mother did not disappoint with her scandalized tone. 

“Sorry, got to go! Need to spread my legs for more lowlife men!” Bobbi said cheerfully. She hung up before her mother could reply. 

Hunter looked at her, bewildered. “I know you said she pushed your buttons, but I didn’t realize how much.”

Bobbi blushed. She didn’t enjoy how much her parents - more her mother, really - could rile her up. She felt too much like a teenager whose only purpose was to give their parents the middle finger. Except in this case her parents definitely  _ deserved _ the middle finger because they thought that her boyfriend wasn’t deserving of the time of day and that her child was a mistake. Bobbi never had any delusions that people would think the baby was planned, but if anyone else who she had told thought it was a bad idea, they’d at least had the grace to keep it to themselves. 

“At least you told them.” Hunter said with a shrug. “Moving on, though… I sincerely hope you will only be spreading your legs for  _ one _ lowlife man in the near future.” He began kissing a trail from her shoulder to her neck, soft open-mouthed kisses that send pleasant tingles over her skin. Bobbi had the feeling he was only doing it to distract her from her anger at her mother, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. 

“Mmm,” Bobbi hummed, turning her head to allow him better access to her neck. Hormones kind of sucked, but at times like these they were also kind of great. Everything Hunter did to her felt like it was dialed up to eleven. “I’m only interested in one man, really, and he isn’t a lowlife. I hear he has a real job and everything.” 

“A job his girlfriend gave him,” Hunter said, nibbling at her pulse point. Bobbi shivered despite the heat of the summer air, and slid her hand onto Hunter’s thigh. 

“It’s not nepotism if he has the proper credentials.” Even if he was hiding behind the guise of teasing, Bobbi could tell that the way he had been employed was still chafing at Hunter. He wanted to believe that he could do anything and everything for himself. It was scary sometimes the way they were similar in that respect.

Hunter ignored her words in favor of scraping his teeth along the shell of her ear.

“Hey.” As much as she loathed to pull away from him, Bobbi wanted to make sure that she was clear about one thing. “The lowlife thing? That is  _ all _ my mother. I love you.” She paused significantly in between each word of her declaration, wanting it to sink in - if only because she wasn’t sure she had the emotional fortitude to say it twice.

“I know.” Hunter pressed his forehead against hers. “Thank you.” Bobbi didn’t know whether he was thanking her for the assurance or for loving him at all, so she just tipped her head forward to kiss him. 

“Let’s go home, Lance.”


	4. Chapter 4

The Auckland airport was too crowded for Bobbi’s tastes. It was smaller than LAX by at least a tenfold, but it still felt too damn big, probably because there wasn’t anyone at her side.

Bobbi tried not to let herself get too preoccupied with Hunter’s absence. They had anticipated that it would take some time to get him back into the States, even though his criminal record was clear of any charges related to the bank thefts. Hunter was more familiar with the visa system than Bobbi was thanks to his constant visitor visa applications, but the intricacies of becoming a permanent non-citizen resident of the United States were enough to give everyone involved in the process a headache.

A similar headache pulsed at Bobbi’s temples, and she sighed. She had been avoiding drinking that much on the plane so she could in turn avoid having to use the cramped airplane bathrooms, but that had led to mild dehydration that she was going to have to fix if she wanted to be rid of the headache. 

After stopping at a water fountain and refilling her bottle, Bobbi made her way to the terminal where her flight to LAX would be departing. The layover wasn’t long, but it wasn’t short, either; three hours in an airport wasn’t going to be fun. She resisted the urge to immediately start texting Hunter. He hadn’t responded to her first text that she had landed in New Zealand, which meant he was probably busy. He didn’t need her distracting him.

“Anyone sitting here?” A tall man with a smooth, American-accented voice gestured to the seat next to Bobbi, and she shook her head.

“Go for it.” She wasn’t entirely pleased that the terminal was already so crowded, but the man gave her a gap-toothed smile and her irritation faded just a little. It wasn’t his fault that so many people were going to LAX, or that there were other travelers who had taken up seats with their various bags without heed for others. 

“Going home?” The man asked as he settled in. Bobbi hoped he wasn’t planning on chatting her up the entire three hours.

“Kind of,” Bobbi answered with a shrug. At the risk of sounding like an awful romance novel, she couldn’t help but think that anyplace without Hunter could never quite be home.

“There’s a story there.” The man smiled broadly. “Spill it, girl.” Bobbi expected to bristle at the usage of the word girl, but she somehow couldn’t. The man was just too damn  _ nice _ .

“I’m moving back to L.A., but my boyfriend’s trying to get his visa figured out.” Bobbi pressed her lips together to keep the bottom one from trembling. It all felt suddenly, horribly real that she was going to be spending the next who knew how long without Hunter. He wasn’t going to be there to drag her out of bed at the crack of dawn or to relish in eating sugar without Jemma’s supervision or to help her pick out furniture for their new apartment or -

“Hey, breathe.” The man laid his hand on her shoulder, and that was when Bobbi realized she was hyperventilating. Shit. All of this stress wasn’t good for the baby, and -

“ _ Breathe _ .” His voice was more insistent the second time, and he squeezed her shoulder just enough to be painful. It jerked Bobbi back until reality, and she took a deep, slow breath, ignoring her stinging eyes and hot cheeks. Luckily it didn’t seem like anyone else in the terminal was paying her much mind, so she just had to suffer the embarrassment of one stranger thinking she was a nutcase. 

“Sorry,” Bobbi said shakily when her breathing was back under her control. “It’s just - a lot.” She didn’t know how to bring up that everything was made harder by her being pregnant without seeming like she was begging for attention or pity, so she kept her mouth shut.

“I’d imagine,” the man said sympathetically. He squeezed her shoulder one last time before releasing her. “I’m Trip, by the way.” He stuck his hand out, and Bobbi looked at him for just a moment before taking it. They seemed a little past the point of introductions, since he had just seen her almost fall victim to a panic attack, but she didn’t want to be rude.

“Bobbi.” Her phone buzzed, and the message that flashed across the screen was Hunter’s response to her text. Bobbi’s eyes flicked over it briefly, the last vestiges of her earlier panic easily chased away by Hunter’s words.

“I’d know that look anywhere,” Trip said, leaning back in his chair. “That’s your beau?”

“Yeah.” Bobbi put her phone to sleep, vowing to respond to Hunter’s message after she was done her conversation with Trip. “What about you? Why are you going to L.A.?”

“I got a job with the FBI,” Trip answered. Bobbi couldn’t help but let out a short, startled laugh at the answer. What a small world. “Why’s that funny?” Trip asked with an arch of an eyebrow.

“Long story.” Bobbi waved her hand. “But you probably shouldn’t mention you know me, at least not to Mace. I’m kind of  _ persona non grata _ with the Los Angeles FBI.”

Trip’s eyebrows had nearly receded into his hairline. “Damn, girl. What did you do!?” 

Maybe Bobbi shouldn’t be saying such things in the middle of a crowded airport, and to a stranger nonetheless, but she couldn’t help it. “Let’s just say they didn’t approve of me sleeping with a suspect?” She said sheepishly.

Trip laughed, a sound that’s low and rich and fills up the whole terminal. “And that’s not all of it!” Bobbi said. It was a long story, but they did have three hours. It wasn’t her normal modus operandi to go spilling her life’s story, but what could she say? She was tired and hormonal and lonely and a little bit scared, too. She knew how to read people, and even after learning that Trip was going to be a part of the FBI she couldn’t read him as anything other than a genuine person with a good heart.

At the end of her regaling him, Trip let out a long, low whistle. “So if you were so happy in Samoa, why’re you coming back?”

“Oh - uh, I’mhavingababy.” Bobbi really needed to get better at the whole telling people thing.

Realization dawned on Trip’s face, and he nodded slowly. None of the judgement Bobbi had expected was there, though, which was a relief.

Her phone buzzed again. Hunter wanted to check that his first text had gone through. Guilt clawed at Bobbi - she hadn’t expected the conversation with Trip to take as long as it had. She imagined that Hunter was taking the separation about as well as she was, except that he didn’t have random people in an airport to vent to.

“I’ll let you have a chat with your boy,” Trip said, standing up and stretching. “Can you watch my stuff while I go grab a bite?” Bobbi nodded before turning back to Hunter’s text.

She typed a quick reply that she had received the first text, and was about to send it before sighing and adding something that was perhaps criminally sentimental. They had agreed to avoid saying that they missed each other as a way of preserving both of their sanities, but there were about a million ways to say  _ I miss you _ without actually saying it. Bobbi’s hands shook ever so slightly as she typed the closing to her message.  _ I love you. Baby loves you. xoxo _

She would never, ever,  _ ever _ admit to typing the last four letters. Ever. But she did it. She drew the line at reading Hunter’s texts aloud, though, even though he insisted that the baby needed to hear everything he had to say. She wasn’t doing that - at least in the airport.

Trip came back to the terminal ten minutes later with a pretzel larger than Bobbi’s head, and she laughed as he struggled to eat all of it before eventually relinquishing the remainder to Bobbi. Baby enjoyed pretzel, apparently.

By boarding time Bobbi had already told Trip most of the ins and outs of the FBI office that she could remember, and they had exchanged contact information. Even though she knew people in L.A. - mostly Melinda and Phil, but some other more casual acquaintances as well - it was nice to have someone else in her corner. 

Even without Hunter at her side, returning to L.A. felt more and more like going home.


	5. Chapter 5

Bobbi was in the midst of unpacking when a knock sounded on the door. 

“Just a sec!” She called, scrambling to her feet. The boxes surrounding her created a veritable maze, and it took longer than she would’ve liked to admit to free herself from the clutter. She had just been trying to find the plates and kitchenware so she could eat an actual breakfast, but that had turned into opening every box and actually unpacking, and she was overwhelmed by it.

“Sorry,” Bobbi said as she opened the door. She didn’t recognize the man on the other side, but he seemed to recognize her.

“Barbara?” He asked, extending his hand to her. “I’m Alphonso Mackenzie, your landlord.”

“It’s just Bobbi,” she corrected, taking the offered hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Mackenzie.” She hadn’t expected her landlord to be so tall. And muscley. It was a really good thing that Hunter wasn’t here, because he’d probably be foaming at the mouth when she admired the man’s biceps.

“Mack,” her landlord informed her. “I live just across the hall, so if you need anything…” Just then the door behind him - the door to his apartment - opened, and a woman stepped out, followed by a bouncing little girl. The woman was holding a casserole dish covered in tin foil, and Bobbi eyed it curiously.

“This is my wife, Elena, and my daughter, Hope,” Mack introduced. Elena didn’t offer to shake hands, instead plopping the casserole dish into Bobbi’s arms.

“Enchiladas,” she explained. “I know how hard it can be to cook when you’ve just moved to a new place.” Bobbi tried not to blush thinking about how cooking was absolutely the last thing on her mind the last two days.

“Hi!” Hope chirped. “My dad said you used to surf. Can you teach me?”

Bobbi couldn’t remember where in her many e-mails to her would-be landlord that she had mentioned surfing, but it figured that a kid of seven or eight would latch onto that particular detail.

“I’m not as good at surfing as my boyfriend is.” Bobbi swallowed hard, praying that her hormones wouldn’t pick now to start acting up. “But he’s a really good teacher, and I bet he would teach you, if it’s okay with your dad.”

“Where’s he?” Hope asked, peering around Bobbi into her empty apartment. 

“He’s not here right now.” Bobbi’s chest tightened uncomfortably - she had been doing so well at distracting herself from Hunter’s absence, but it seemed like no matter what she did she was confronted by it, and how much she longed for him to be there.

“Is he at work? When will he be back?” 

Bobbi opened her mouth to answer, but it was too hard to say that she didn’t know when Hunter would be coming back. She closed her mouth, trying to think of something clever to say and failing.

“ _ Mija _ , Miss Bobbi has to put her enchiladas in the fridge. We can ask her more questions later.” Bobbi flashed Elena a grateful smile as she filled the silence and ushered her daughter away. Elena already had picked another topic that seemed to catch the little girl’s attention right away - Hope didn’t seem at all put out by being redirected. 

Bobbi stepped back, wondering if that was her cue to disappear back into the apartment, but Mack stopped her by putting his hand on the door frame.

“You’re welcome for dinner sometime, if you’d like,” he offered, voice gentle. “I know it can be hard to get used to eating alone.”

Bobbi tried to flatten her face into a neutral expression, but that in itself was probably a tell of how she was feeling. She nodded once at Mack. “I’ll think about it. Thanks.” She wasn’t planning on taking Mack up on his offer, but it was nice to have it open.

“It was good to meet you, Bobbi.”

“You too, Mack.” He smiled before he retreated back into his own apartment, and Bobbi shut the door behind him.

She peeled up the edge of the tinfoil to get a good look at the enchiladas before putting them in the fridge next to the groceries Melinda and Phil had gotten for her. Bobbi’s stomach growled loudly, announcing its need for the breakfast she had been putting off. She sighed, trying to think of something that sounded appetizing and easy to get. Sadly, the first criterion ruled out a lot of things, and the second eliminated every other possible choice.

Bobbi took out her cell phone, sending a whining text to Hunter about how hungry she was. She was going to need to eat eventually, Bobbi thought, placing her hand over her navel. Delaying it was just going to make the nausea worse, and had the added bonus of making her feel like a crap mom for starving her child.

Hunter sent a text back.  _ Check the pantry. _ Bobbi’s brow furrowed. What did he know about the pantry that she didn’t? Phil and Mel had told her that it was just some staples, like the milk and eggs in her fridge.

She’d humor Hunter, though. Bobbi padded over to the pantry, swinging open the doors to find a box of pastries sitting on the shelf at eye-level. It was wrapped in a bow and emblazoned with the name of a bakery that she had mentioned once to Hunter when they had first been in L.A. together. They hadn’t ever gotten to visit it (partially because of Jemma’s intolerance for sweets) and Bobbi hadn’t realized he had even remembered the name.

How he had convinced Melinda to stand in line for fancy breakfast pastries, Bobbi was never going to know.

Her stomach growled again, more insistently now that it had a focus for its desires. Bobbi slid the box off its shelf, returning to the kitchen with it. She dialled Hunter’s number before opening the box, smiling to herself when he picked up on the first ring.

“Morning, love,” Hunter said through a yawn.

“Thank you.” Bobbi couldn’t get the words to be louder than a whisper.

“Anything for you.” Bobbi flipped open the top of the pastry box, selecting one of the apple-filled pastries to bite into. “Been feeling any better?” Hunter asked.

“Not much,” Bobbi admitted through her mouthful of food. “There’s not much I feel like eating, but when I  _ do _ feel like eating, it’s like it’s all I can think about.” Case in point: she couldn’t remember anything she had been doing before eating her breakfast.

“Hopefully things start evening out soon.”

“Yeah.” Bobbi paused, running her hand down her stomach. “I think I have a bump now.” She hadn’t really noticed it until she had put her hand over her belly earlier, but after that, Bobbi swore she could feel the faintest curve there.

Static crackled over the line.

“Hunter?”

“Still here,” he confirmed. Hunter sniffled. “I wish I was with you.”

“I know, honey. I wish you were here too.” Hunter maybe-crying was not helping Bobbi’s unstable emotional state. “But you’re here in spirit.” He was here in the pastry she was eating, and in the photos she still had to hang on the wall, and most importantly, in the little life growing inside her.

“Send me pictures?”

“Of course.” Then she could confirm the bump’s existence, too. “Thanks for breakfast, Hunter.”

“Any time, Bob.” He seemed to have regained his composure. “Love you, and the same to our beach baby.”

“Love you too.” They chatted for a bit longer before hanging up, leaving Bobbi to eat the rest of her pastry in silence. She licked her fingers clean, tamping down the urge to eat another. She wanted to make them last as long as humanly possible.

Bobbi returned the pastries to the pantry, but couldn’t avoid going back into the living room and the endless pile of boxes for any longer after that.

There was still more unpacking to be done.


End file.
